Red As Strawberries In Summertime
by shockin'blueeyes
Summary: Deep in the woods of Bastogne, a strange nurse appears in the middle of the battlefield, and her uncommon abilities will decide the fate of all the men in Easy Company, and especially the fate of Eugene Roe's heart. Doc/OC
1. Find A Saviour

This is my first Band Of Brothers fanfic, so please be patient with me if I get the characters a little bit wrong at first; I'm still trying to get the hang of it. Please tell if there's anything you think I should improve, or if my OC is becoming a Mary Sue.

I felt that with pretty much everyone writing about time-travelling and such, I could write also my story with a touch of science-fiction, or supernatural in it. It's a little different from your usual girl-meets-Easy-Company story, but I hope you like it.

After you read this chapter, don't forget to check out We Blaze Away, a fanmix album inspired by different characters in Band of Brothers. It's really good, and all the songs are amazing. Actually, the title of this story is taken out of the lyrics of the song **White Winter Hymnal**, by Fleet Foxes, which happens to be in that fan mix album. Awesome song, by the way.

I'm open to new things, so if you know of anything Band Of Brothers related (doesn't matter if it's fanfic, fanvid, fanmix or whatever), just let me know!

Okay, so now, enjoy the story, and please, don't forget to review!

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><p><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Band of Brothers, sadly, and I mean no disrespect towards the real men in Easy Company. I only own my OC and the plotline of this story, in which all the characters are based upon those of the series and my vision of them, not the real men.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: <strong>**Find A Saviour**

_Hoping to find a saviour._

_No, don't leave me to die here._

_Help me survive here, alone._

_Don't remember!_

_Put me to sleep, evil angel_

_Open your wings, evil angel_

_Fly over me, why can't I breathe, evil angel_

_-Evil Angel, Breaking Benjamin-_

'Come on Julian, stay with us! Stay with us! Hold on! Julian, look at me! Look at me! Hold on!'

'Heffron, move!'

'Don't move Julian, we're coming back!'

But as much as Babe shouted himself hoarse with desperate words of promise, saying they'd be back for him, Julian knew it was useless. He could feel his life quickly seeping away between his fingers, dying the white snow crimson red, and by the time they came back, he knew he'd be as lifeless as the trees surrounding him. His body hurt like hell, not only his throat, probably from the lack of oxygen, unable to enter his lungs currently filling with the blood coming from his mangled throat. He nevertheless tried to reach his comrades by extending his hand, but it fell limp, his last pathetic attempt at movement draining him of what little strength he had left. He didn't try to move again as the patrol retreated into the woods, away from the small battlefield and away from him, and he stared at the skeletons of the trees above him, through which he could just see a patch of grey sky, and with his last ounces of air, he whished they could at least come back for his dog tags and his silver cross to send back to his mother. Then at least she would have something to remind her of him.

His eyes began to blur, and he stared right ahead again, still coughing and spurting blood, still seeing only a patch of grey sky between the tree tops.

Suddenly he heard the snow crunch somewhere near him, and as his eyes began to droop and he spurted his last blood-filled breaths, he hoped that whoever came ended his agony, he didn't even care if it was an American, or a Kraut or a freaking bear; he just wanted it to end.

But instead, the last thing he saw before he was swallowed by darkness was the face of an angel, gently hovering over him, light hair flowing around the face like a halo, whispering.

'Shush… you'll be fine… you'll be fine…'

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><p>Eugene Roe patted the back of the jeep and as it sped away trough the woods in the direction of Bastogne, he sighed, running a hand over his face and regretting it instantly as the nearly frozen appendage did nothing to improve the dull beating of his nearly frozen nose.<p>

Slowly, he made his way back towards the site where they had come back from patrol; remembering he'd dropped an unused bandage in his haste to find one that could fit the injured soldier's rather large hole in the stomach. Hopefully, at Bastogne they'll be able to save him, because other than trying to stop the haemorrhage and giving him some morphine, he hadn't been able to do much more.

However, when he arrived to the spot where the he had been waiting for the patrol to come back, he only saw the patch of red snow where the soldier had fallen while the patrol hurriedly retreated after they made contact. They lost one man (or rather kid? He couldn't tell anymore.), Julian. Cursing under his breath, he rummaged the snow lightly with one foot, and found the sodden bandage under a small pile of snow, now completely useless. He crouched down and took it, throwing it away after one second.

Damn it. Damn it all.

Eugene leaned back almost unconsciously and sat, ignoring the beating pain on his backside when it collided with the concrete-like snow.

He couldn't take it anymore.

His whole body hurt, his feet felt like stone and his fingers had long lost its sensibility. But the worst of all, much worse than the chilling air and the freezing cold and the certainty that he was going to die frozen or blown to chunks, was the solitude. It gnawed at him with cruelness, eating away his resolve, his calm and his sanity.

The rest of the company, they had each other, they knew the other men probably better than they knew themselves, and would give up their lives for anyone in that company without a second thought. Well, that, he would do it too, he did it every time he ran through the trees during a shelling, covering behind blown-up trees and snow, with absolutely no weapon or way to protect himself, the only thought in his mind to get to the one who was screaming for a medic and save him. The men, he also knew them pretty well, at least the Toccoa men. He had trained with them, he had been there right from the start, enduring Sobel and Currahee and all the shit they threw at them.

Really, he was just like every one of the men, or at least had been until they took away his riffle and changed it for morphine and a white armband, and teached him the supreme rule of a medic, the only one that really mattered.

Don't. Get. Close. To. Them.

Five simple words that determined the difference between life and death. Between quick treatment and no treatment at all. Between sanity, and madness.

And so he had distanced himself, reluctantly at first, and then with an increasing sense of urgency when he discovered just how much it hurt when one of his men died under his fingertips, eyes wild with fear, but not seeing anything.

In his opinion, he had fared it quite well, all things considered, at least until they arrived to Bastogne. Then all went to hell, and the last weeks were beginning to feel like his whole existence, wiping away any other memories he might have had of his life before war.

The sunfilled house near the bayou where he spent his childhood running around with his siblings; his _mami_'skitchen, full of scented smells and different colours and her gentle voice muttering prayers that lifted the bad spirits and illnesses off her patients chests; the impossibly deep warmth of the weather that seemed to be a colour all on its own, and seeped into his skin and warmed his bones… all that was slowly but surely fading away, smothered by the white and never ending scenery, the numbness of the cold and the dull fog that robbed the day of light.

Even the days at the Toccoa Camp had blurred at the edges, and he knew soon enough the only thing he'd remember would be the names of the soldiers he couldn't save. Oh yes, that, he would never forget. They would stay with him forever, up until the moment he drew his last quivering breath, whenever that might be. Today, this afternoon, tomorrow?

What was tomorrow?

'Medic!'

The shout cut through the air like a knife, echoing in the deserted forest. He looked up from his hands, his heart beating wildly, his hand automatically reaching for his bag, whole body tense in anticipation.

He had wondered when they would start.

The hallucinations, he meant. Because this had to be one, since the cry had come from further down the trees, the exact direction the patrol had come back, tail between its legs and missing one man. And he knew for sure the man who was missing was positively dead, if the snippets of conversation he had heard where true. Shot in the neck, badly. It was impossible he was still alive, much less able to shout.

'Medic!'

And yet, there was a voice calling for him, for a medic. He slowly got up, eyeing the forest. Maybe it wasn't a hallucination. Maybe it was real.

But who could it be then, if Julian was dead? Maybe it was a Kraut, but that didn't seem right. Why would a Kraut draw attention to himself by shouting in English near the American line?

'Medic!' the cry was a bit more frantic this time, and his legs itched to get running and help the man in need.

'Medic! I need help!'

Okay, it didn't matter if it was an Ally or a Kraut, someone needed his help, so he was gonna give it. Besides, he was fairly sure there wasn't a German accent attached to the voice, and he knew just how difficult it was to find a Kraut without an accent, not to mention in the middle of the forest in the middle of nowhere.

He began running in the direction the cry had come, jumping over fallen trees and piles of snow, secretly enjoying the run, for at least it warmed him up a little.

'Medic!' the voice sounded eerily familiar, but he had no idea why.

He guided himself around the trees, straining his ears for the voice, now getting near. After more than five minutes of run and starting to get out of breath, he finally spotted a dark form on the floor than stood out as more than a lifeless log. He started to go forward, and then realised that the dark form was, were, in fact, two people, one not moving and the other faintly crawling. Not for the first time in the war, he wished he carried around some sort of weapon with him, for he recognised the Kraut uniform coat on one of the men. His mind froze in panic for a second, and then he recognised the other soldier, who was wearing an American uniform, and his mind seemed to start again at an incredible velocity.

No. This could not be happening. It had to be a hallucination. It was impossible.

The American soldier was Julian.

Very much alive.

He stalled and stopped, the snow rising for the sudden stop and covering his boots. His breath was so ragged he wasn't surprised when the American soldier heard him and turned his head towards him. He still couldn't believe what his senses were screaming at him, even if the pair of brown terrified eyes that met his was definitely Julian's.

'Doc? Thank God!' he grunted, and it was then when he saw what Julian was really doing. He was crawling on the snow, dragging the seemingly dead Kraut soldier with him.

'Julian?' his voice came out unusually high-pitched, and he swallowed, willing his mind to move at the same pace as his body. Julian had to be injured somewhere, if not the men would not have left without him, so he needed his help. He needed to be healed.

Maybe the men had just not seen clearly where he was hit, and assumed it was the neck, when it might have been another less critical place.

'Doc! Help me please!' it was then than the frightened edge to Julian's words hit him, and his feet started again. He knew that the only time this men sounded somewhat remotely afraid was when the bravery was gushing out of them in bright crimson rivers.

He kneeled before Julian, his eyes searching his body, looking for any sign of blood, and it immediately saw the darkening of his collar where the blood was. He brought his hands to it, fearing that the injury in the neck might be real after, but his calloused hands only touched smooth skin and a strong and steady heartbeat, the only imperfection being a pinkish scar than ran along his neck, but looked like it had a few months.

'Julian? Where are you injured? Julian?' he asked, his hands hovering over his body, unsure of what to do with them since it seemed there was no wound, no source of red river. Julian pushed away his hands, moving to sit up.

'No, not me. Her. Her' the boy said, pointing with shaky fingers to the figure he was dragging through the snow.

The Kraut soldier? He wanted to help a Kraut soldier?

'Julian, what- wait, _her_?' finally catching up with what Julian had really said, he looked at the Kraut soldier, really looked at him.

His back was turned, and the only thing he could see was a patch of light brown hair, almost blond, peeking from the neck of the Kraut coat. Uncertain, he grabbed his shoulder and turned the Kraut soldier around, only to pull back his hand as if it burned.

'What the hell?'

The Kraut soldier was _definitely_ a woman. Though her face was partially caked with dirt and strands of hair hid her face, the full lips and long lashes, as long as her face's structure were definitely feminine. Strands of her hair stuck out of a braided bun, now almost completely undone, and strands of it were soaked with snow.

She didn't appear to be breathing.

'Julian, why did you…?' the words didn't seem to come out of his mouth properly. Julian looked at him with wide eyes.

'She saved me! She's an angel! I swear! I thought I was going to die, but then she came… and- and I thought she was going to take me away, but she – she healed me! She saved me!' Eugene brought his hand up to Julian's forehead, checking for any signs of fever. When he found none, he looked again at the woman.

She still hadn't moved.

Eugene looked between Julian and the woman, trying to decide what to do. This whole situation was surreal.

'Why were you crawling? Can't you walk?' he asked Julian. In the back of his mind, he knew he should check if the woman still had pulse, but he couldn't bring himself to it just now.

'I didn't want the Krauts to shoot us. They got me once; I wasn't going to let them get me twice!' the kid looked at him with eyes wide as saucers.

'They got you?' Eugene asked, his eyes again searching for any sign of injury in Julian's body, but apart from the semi-healed scar, there were none, and that scar sure as hell wasn't from a shot from half an hour ago.

'In the neck, but I'm okay now! She healed me! It's a miracle! She just – I swear, Doc, when I woke up I was perfectly fine again, and she was beside me, unconscious! Doc, she'

Julian shut up suddenly as the woman stirred beside him, and Eugene looked, breath caught in his throat, as her eyes fluttered open and closed again after a second. The two men stayed still for a few seconds, but she didn't move again.

'Doc, you gotta help her. I don't care if she's a Kraut. She saved my life' Julian whispered.

Reluctantly, Eugene stretched his fingers towards her neck, already knowing what he'd find there. A pulse, a confirmation that the Kraut woman was alive, as well as Julian.

Still, he made Julian stand up and he crouched near the woman, opening her coat to see if there were any wounds.

Behind him, Julian gasped, and Eugene himself made a chocked noise in the back of his throat.

The woman may have been wearing a Kraut coat, but the uniform underneath it, even if frayed and incredibly dirty, was clearly an American WAC nurse uniform. How she'd gotten there, with a Kraut coat no less, made his head spin.

This made no sense whatsoever. This whole situation was completely and utterly impossible.

What was an American nurse doing in the middle of the forest half dressed as a Kraut? How could she have gotten there?

He trained his eyes on her face, wishing she'd wake up and answered the thousands of questions running through his mind before his head exploded.

'Doc…' Julian stuttered, 'she's a- a-'

'A what?' he snapped, shutting his eyes for a moment, trying to keep calm. He hadn't freaked out under enemy artillery; he sure as hell wasn't going to freak out because of this.

'A paratrooper'

His head snapped up and looked at her trousers, which sure enough, were bloused over her boots.

'That doesn't mean she's a paratrooper' he mumbled, but he couldn't shake the thought that maybe she was. It made a little bit more sense now. If she was a paratrooper nurse, then she was surely part of the 326th Medical Battalion, or from a nurse battalion attached to it.

His head spun more quickly than before, and he tried to grasp that little bit of information. So she was American. An American nurse. And she was a paratrooper. And she was with the 326th Medical Battalion, the one that had been captured by Krauts.

He eyed her warily.

How could a defenceless nurse, without any weapons or means to protect herself, have escaped from German custody and crossed the German lines without being stopped?

How could she have saved a man from a mortal wound, not only healing it, but reducing a fresh large wound to a faint scar?

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><p>So here it is, first chapter! Liked it? Hope so!<p>

Don't forget to review, it'll make my day, seriously, and it might just make me write faaasteeer… ;)


	2. Run

Okay, I know that I'm not being entirely accurate with the army details, such as women being in the 326th Medical Battalion of the 101st Airborne Division, seeing as it was part of the United States Army and therefore didn't allow women. As I've already written, she's not exactly part of the 326th, but I'll explain that later. Just remember that this is a fictional story written for fun and so I allow myself to slip a little on the details. ;)

Also, I tried to make the reactions in this chapter the most realistic I could, given the different personalities the men had (in the TV series) and what I imagine they would say or do. Sorry if it's not what you expected, I did my best, but please feel free to point out any mistakes. I'm all for _constructing_ criticism.

**Thanks for all the wonderful reviews and encouragement, and especially to bayumlike****dayum, for her wonderful review!**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Band of Brothers, sadly, and I mean no disrespect towards the real men in Easy Company. I only own my OC and the plotline of this story, in which all the characters are based upon those on the series and my vision of them, not the real men.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: <strong>**Run**

_You know the day destroys the night  
>Night divides the day<br>Tried to run,_

_tried to hide  
>Break on through to the other side<em>

_- __Break On Through To The Other Side, The Doors –_

Eugene puffed slightly, readjusting the weight, and gripping tighter the waist of the girl she was carrying, trying to keep her from falling over. On the other side of her, Julian held her by the shoulders, and together, they continued walking back to their camp.

The unknown woman was still unconscious, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out what was wrong with her. She had a strong, steady pulse, good breathing and no signs of bleeding. If he didn't know better, he'd say she was asleep, but it was impossible. How could someone sleep so soundly in the middle of a battlefield?

He had searched for her dogtags, but they weren't around her neck, where they should be, and that puzzled him even more. Every soldier knew not to take off his – her – dogtags, because if something happened, they were likely to disappear and never be heard of again and become a nameless body in the bottom of a pit.

'Doc?' Julian asked, his voice still somewhat raspy.

'Yes?'

'Where do you think she came from?' Julian lowered his voice, as if afraid someone would hear him 'Do you think she came from heaven?'

Eugene couldn't help but snort. From heaven? He looked at her. Her head was bent and he barely saw her face between the strands of loose hair, but when he looked at her he did not see an angel. He saw a tired, dirty girl, not even old enough to be called a woman, with a small face and fair skin peppered with freckles, who looked no older than eighteen and definitely not cut out for war, much less for being a nurse in the WAC.

Angels were supposed to be mighty creatures, holding all the power of heaven, fearless and clean.

Maybe she was a fallen angel.

'No, Julian. She's not an angel' he finally replied, looking again in front of him. Where was the damn camp? They had been walking for ten minutes already!

'But she-' Julian replied, pointing to his neck.

'She didn't heal you. You weren't injured at all, Julian, at least not in the neck. You'd be dead' Eugene said, maybe a little bit more harshly than intended, but the days of believing in magic, healing hands and the soft prayers of the traiteurs seemed to be just a blurry dream, lost in the fog of the winter of Bastogne.

Finally they saw through the fog a patch of snow tinged slightly with blood, and Eugene recognised the spot where the patrol had come back. (Funny, isn't it? The only way he had to orientate himself were the patches of dried blood in the snow, like a gory landmark on a deathly map. He couldn't remember how the summers in the bayou were like, but he could remember every single spot of blood his men had bled. Funny.)

He started to distinguish a few foxholes, but they were empty. Where was everybody? Then he remembered.

It was lunch time, so everyone would be gathered somewhere between the foxholes and CP. Damn it. How was he supposed to get to Winters without everyone knowing that he was with a girl and a man that was supposed to be dead?

'Doc, I think it's lunch time' said Julian, pointing to an empty foxhole. He looked in the direction of the spot they usually had lunch in, suddenly looking very eager to get there.

Eugene didn't answer, but instead racked his brain for an idea of what to do. He didn't really know what he was supposed to do now, he just knew he had to get to Winters, since he commanded Easy Company and this was something that would most definitely interest him.

As they approached the area where they normally ate, the silence was deafening. There was no conversation, no laughter, just silence. He knew why.

Every death was like this. Silence. After life, after the pain and the blood and the fear and the helplessness, there was only silence.

The men sat in a circle, quietly munching their food, or whatever it was in their plates, their backs turned to Eugene, Julian and the girl they carried. They were all looking down, staring at their shoes, their plates, anything but each others faces. Sparing a glance to Julian, he saw him stiffen upon realising why they were like this.

'Where's Doc?' asked a voice, and Eugene recognised Captain Winters. He was sitting with the men, eating with them, freezing his ass off just like the rest of them. He envied him slightly, his ability to blend with the boys even though he wasn't with them a lot anymore. Eugene spent every second of his day surrounded by them, but knew he would never blend in. Not all the way, at least.

Well, it was much better that Winters was here. He was getting tired of carrying her around, he needed to get this over with and gain back some resemblance of normalcy in his life, or whatever he had in this frozen hell, where neither normalcy or life were very common.

'I'm here' he announced without thinking.

It all seemed to happen at the same time.

Winters turned around to look at him, along with a few others, and gasped aloud, and Babe dropped his plate and stared at them, open mouthed. Next to him, Malarkey choked on his beans, but nobody moved to help him, as they were all staring in various degrees of shock. Luz let out a very strangled 'Jesus Christ', and Guarnere actually did the cross sign, while Martin spluttered incoherently and Liebgott shouted something in a high pitched voice. Some replacement fell off his seat.

If the situation hadn't been so serious, Eugene would have laughed at the faces of his comrades, but now all he could do was wish somebody would move already and snap out of it. And hopefully help out Malarkey, who was slowly turning blue.

Winters, ever the calmest one, was the first to move, standing up and coming towards them, his eyes alternating between staring at Julian and then at the mysterious woman, but Eugene could see he had not realised she was a girl. His face was set in an unreadable expression, but he seemed at a loss of words, and simply looked at them, then turning around to face the men hissed

'Who were the ones that saw Julian get injured? The ones that left him behind?'

Slowly, almost guiltily, Martin raised his hand, along with Bull. However, when Babe didn't move an inch, his mouth still open, Luz elbowed him in the stomach. That seemed to snap Babe back to reality, and suddenly he was scrambling up from his seat and running towards them, scooping his foxhole buddy up in a bear hug, leaving Eugene to support the girl alone.

'This can't be happening!' Babe finally said when he broke out of the hug, patting Julian on the back 'I saw you… It's impossible…' he trailed off, a troubled look in his face.

Martin also stood up, looking at Winters, who was starting to look more agitated by the second.

'Sir, I am sure of what I saw. We would not have let him behind if he wasn't injured. I saw it clearly. He's not supposed to be here. He should be dead as a rock' he deadpanned.

'Hey, knock it off!' exclaimed Babe, glaring at Martin.

'But Babe, you saw it too, he was shot' replied Bull, also rising from his seat, eyeing Julian wearily.

'Yes, I was shot, I know, but she healed me!' Julian said excitedly, pointing at the girl Eugene was still holding.

By now all the men had come out of the shock of seeing Julian alive, and where instead listening intently to the developing conversation, but upon hearing Julian talking, some of them went back to the spluttering messes they were a few seconds ago or fell into astonished silence, while Malarkey, who had been drinking from a canteen Muck had offered him, choked again.

Winters looked at Eugene, opening and closing his mouth, but not emitting a sound.

Eugene considered this was the time for an intervention.

'Sir, I found them both a few yards away, where Julian was hit. I heard cries for a medic after the patrol returned, and so I followed them and came upon…' he hesitated, not knowing exactly how to put into words 'I found Julian alive and carrying her through the snow, claiming she had, uh…' another hesitation '_healed_ him, sir, and then passed out next to him.' He said all this in a low voice, hoping the men didn't hear it. He wasn't sure they could take any more without passing out.

Winters eyebrows shot up so high they were in danger of disappearing into his hairline.

'She?' he asked, looking intently at the girl, as if he saw her for the first time.

'A Kraut?' rasped Babe, who had been standing next to Julian. He looked over at the girl too.

'That's impossible. Germans don't have women in their Army' apparently Winters didn't think it was necessary to lower his voice, and Eugene cringed a little as he waited for the rest of the guys to understand what the Captain had said.

'Who's a Kraut?' asked Liebgott distractedly, walking towards them. 'Nice to see you alive and kicking, Julian' he said, patting his back. A few others, mostly from Julian's platoon, had stood up too, and looked hesitantly at Julian, but after a few seconds walked forward and started to clap his back and shake his hand. Julian, who being a replacement had never gotten much attention, smiled happily, laughing along with the jokes the men did.

Eugene took advantage of the men's distraction and gently carried the girl to a log, lowering her head on it and lying her on the ground, checking again for a pulse, though he already knew she was alive. When he finished, he stood up again, slightly surprised that none of the men had noticed that he had a Kraut with him, much less that she was a woman. Well, he supposed that a comrade coming back from death was more interesting that some Kraut prisoner who wasn't even awake.

'No, but seriously, what's that Kraut doing here? Where'd you find him?' Liebgott asked Eugene, parting away from the crowd a few minutes later. Julian heard him and laughed, elbowing Babe, who was still near him, in the ribs.

'She's not a Kraut, she's American!' he said excitedly, and _loudly_. All cheering and joking stopped and a collective gasp went among the men. All heads swivelled to look at Eugene and the unconscious woman behind him, questions already rising in the air.

'She's a what?'

'Who's a woman?'

'Wait, did he say _she_?'

'Oh my God, the Kraut's a broad!'

The men started to go forward, trying to get a better look at the girl on the floor, and Eugene instinctively took a step back, placing himself in front of the girl, extending his arms to stop the advance of the men.

'Hey, back off. She's unconscious and-' He was cut off by a muffled moan coming from behind him, and he turned around so fast he nearly slipped on the snow and fell, but he caught himself in time.

The girl was sitting upright, nursing her head with one hand, the other supporting her weight.

'She's awake!' someone exclaimed stupidly, followed by some curses and shuffling behind him, but he didn't turn around.

'Miss…' he said tentatively, his voice suddenly raspy as he crouched down beside her. Her head shot upright and two green eyes stared at him in fright. She then looked around, clearly looking for an escape, and her gaze fell on the group of men in front of her. She immediately recoiled, her back hitting the log.

'Miss, it's okay. You're on the American side of the line' he said cautiously.

It took her one second to process the information, but then her face lit up.

'Really?' she asked 'Thank God, thank God…'

Winters, who until that moment had kept silent, crouched down near her.

'You're on the area currently occupied by Easy Company, 2nd Battalion, 506th Regiment, 101st Airborne Division. I'm Captain Richard Winters, the battalion's XO'

The girl nodded her head, and then took a sharp intake of breath, her hand flying to nurse her head again.

'Miss, where are you hurt?' Eugene asked.

'In the head. Knocked it hard on something when I passed out' she replied, lifting her head again, a frown in her face, and began muttering to herself 'I can't believe I passed out. It hasn't happened since… god damnit, I fucked up. What am I supposed to tell-' she then stopped abruptly and began looking around again, pointedly ignoring the dumbfounded faces of Winters and Roe.

She looked to the group of men gathered a few feet away, and smiled weakly when Julian beamed at her. She then turned her attention to Winters, who was looking at her expectantly.

'Sorry, did you say something?'

'Miss, I asked you what you were doing in the middle of the forest all alone, and in a Kraut coat? What were you doing near the line at all?'

Eugene saw how the feeble smile on her face was wiped out in a second, replaced by a frown and sad look in her eyes, the kind of look Death left behind. He mentally cringed, sure that what he was about to hear wasn't pleasant at all, and even thought he was brewing with questions himself, he suddenly wished Winters hadn't asked anything. He didn't know if he wanted to know what the girl had to say. Not if it brought such sadness to her eyes.

'I – well, I'm a field nurse in the WAC 3rd Company. We're attached to the 326th Medical Battalion, and we were captured by the Krauts four days ago.'

She paused looking at the ground.

'They took us and all the supplies back to a town near here, I'm sorry I don't remember the name' she stammered, but Winters waved it off and she continued talking, her voice a little bit steadier. 'They had some kind of field hospital set up there, and they forced us to treat their wounded soldiers. They also took hold of all the supplies, even if they didn't seem to need them. They were very well equipped. 'I managed to get hold of the coat of one soldier we couldn't save' she shivered, and Eugene was sure it wasn't from the cold 'and last night I escaped and have been wandering in the woods ever since, trying to find American forces.'

Winters remained silent after the girl's speech, scratching the back of his head. He then stood up and turned to the men, who had been trying to listen to the girl's story.

'Okay, everybody back to their foxholes. Now' he added upon hearing the groans of the men. 'Doc, Julian, you stay here. And Heffron, send for Captain Nixon'

The men started trudging back to their foxholes, whispering among themselves and sending looks behind them at the girl still sitting on the snow and their comrade seemingly back from the dead.

Winters turned back to the girl.

'So, miss…'

'Corporal Sophie Gallagher, sir' she replied almost defiantly.

And finally, finally, Winters asked the question Eugene had been itching to ask ever since he saw Julian alive.

'How did you heal Private Julian?'

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><p>Don't forget to review and tell me what you think!<p> 


	3. Got A Secret Reposted

I reposted this chapter because it just hurt me how many mistakes it had. Hope this is much better!

**Important note: **I know very little of surgical procedures, so I'm really sorry if I screw up horribly or say something stupid.

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><p><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Band of Brothers, sadly, and I mean no disrespect towards the real men in Easy Company. I only own my OC and the plotline of this story, in which all the characters are based upon those on the series and my vision of them, not the real men.

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: Got A Secret<strong>

'_Got a secret, can you keep it? _

_Swear this one you'll save_

_[…]_

_Now you're telling lies,_

_Because you just want to keep it_

_But no one keeps a secret, no one keeps a secret'_

_- Secret, The Pierces -_

The girl's face paled so fast Eugene thought she was gonna pass out. She shook her head violently.

'I don't know what you're talking about, sir. When I arrived, the private was perfectly alright, I didn't even touch him'

Julian gave an outraged cry.

'That is not true! Why are you lying? You saved me! I was shot, I was going to die!'

Sophie just shook her head again. Winters sighed, passing a hand through his face.

'Okay, Corporal, tell me what happened when you found Private Julian'

'I checked for his pulse and seeing he was alive I tried to wake him up. That must have been when I passed out.'

'Liar!' shouted Julian again, and she looked at him, looking murderous.

'With all due respect, Private, you were nearly dead, there's no way you remember what happened!'

'Didn't you say he was perfectly okay?' cut in Winters, and Sophie opened and closed her mouth, a stubborn look in her eye.

The sounds of boots crunching snow made the four of them look at the approaching figure.

'You were looking for me, Dick?'

Nixon approached the little group of people, eyeing with curiosity the person sitting on the cold snow.

'Another POW?'

'Not quite' answered Winters, looking back at the girl.

'Okay, that's it. I am not a Kraut, damnit!' she struggled to get up and shed the oversized coat to the floor, revealing her WAC uniform.

'Julian?' Nixon blinked a few times, apparently deciding if this was all a weird dream, and finally turning to look at Winters. 'What the hell happened, and why is he alive?' asked Nixon, and while Winters filled him up, Eugene looked at the girl again. She was paler than before, and even as she had a stubborn look on her face and her hands on her hips, he could see her sway a little.

'Miss, are you okay?' he whispered in her direction, and she nodded, but then shrugged.

'I'm just very hungry. I haven't eaten in two days. I refused to eat the food the Kraut gave us. It was pure crap' She smiled conspiratorially at him 'But then again, the American food isn't much better'

He chuckled under his breath, and Sophie smiled. It was a shocking contrast, the brightness of her smile against her pale and tired face.

'And it's Sophie, not Miss' she whispered back. He extended his hand.

'Eugene Roe'

She shook his hand, and when he put it back in his pocket, he felt it a little bit warmer, even if her hands had been freezing too.

'Okay Miss-' started Nixon, turning away from Winters.

'It's Corporal Gallagher, if you please' she cut him, and Eugene had to cough to cover a snicker. Sophie looked at him, the ghost of a smirk on her lips.

'Well, Corporal Gallagher, I'm afraid you will have to be put under custody until you tell us exactly what happened with Private Julian, and exactly how you escaped German imprisonment' deadpanned Nixon.

'What? Why?' cried Sophie, looking horrified. 'I haven't done anything!'

'Then tell us how you healed Julian!' retorted Nixon. Winters, behind him, pursed his lips, but didn't say anything.

'But why would you put me under custody? I'm not a POW! I'm not a Kra-' she stopped mid-sentence, her eyes reduced to slits, and pointed an accusatory finger at Nixon. 'You. You think they let me go, don't you? You think I made a pact with them, to be a spy or something so they wouldn't kill me, don't you?'

Eugene gaped at Sophie. He had just met her, but he could already tell the expression on her face wasn't good news. She advanced a few steps, her finger still pointing accusingly at Nixon, and Eugene judged it a good moment to intervene before someone got injured. By the look on Winters face, he though it too.

'Captain, what does her escape from Kraut custody have to do with Julian?'

'If we don't know the exact sequence of events, we won't be able to know if the attack on Julian was a distraction designed to deliver her to us.' Replied Nixon. Sophie was seething.

'So I get captured by Krauts, forced to take care of Kraut soldiers under death threats, I see my best friend getting killed before my eyes, I manage to escape and when I finally arrive to an American base, they accuse me of being a spy! This is bullshit, pure bullshit!' her voice had been gaining force with each word she said, and the last sentence was shouted. Nixon opened his mouth to say something, but Sophie hadn't finished yet. 'You want to know what happened with Private Julian? Okay, I'll show you.'

Before the baffled looks of the four men, she bent down and took a small knife out of her boot, and straightened up again.

'Corporal, what-?' started Winters, a hand on his holster, but Sophie ignored him.

'Julian, could I have your hand one second, please?' she said, extending her hand, but Julian eyed the knife carefully, his hands still shoved deep in his pockets. 'Come on, you know I healed you. I'm just going to do it again, okay?'

After two seconds, Julian slowly took his hand out of his pocket and put it on top of hers.

Eugene looked at her, unable to say anything. What was she going to do? He held his breath as she lifted the knife and made a cut in Julian's hand.

'Oww! What are you doing, woman! What the hell?' cried Julian, snatching his hand back.

'Oh, won't you stop whining? It's a small cut, for Christ's sake!' she caught his hand before he put it in his pocket, and held it firmly, then looked at Winters, Nixon and Eugene.

'Not one word gets out of here of what I'm about to do, okay? I need your word that it won't get out of here.'

The three men nodded, and Eugene trained his eyes on the cut on Julian's hand. The blood was dripping slowly to the floor, leaving red marks on the white snow. Instinctively, his hands reached for his mussette bag, where the bandages were. He wondered if there would be one day when he saw blood and his first response wasn't reaching for his supplies, or thinking how many morphine shots he still had.

Slowly, very slowly, Sophie brought her hand to the cut, and placed her fingers on it.

What he saw next, Eugene knew he wouldn't forget it in all the years he lived.

Before their eyes, the blood seeping out of the wound went back, cleaning Julian's hand, and the wound closed, the skin resealing itself and leaving only a very faint scar where the cut had been.

Sophie then turned around, putting the knife back in her boot and looking at the men in front of her.

'When the wound is bigger, it takes me more time and energy to close it, that's why I passed out when I healed Julian the first time. The wound in his neck was so big, and I hadn't eaten or slept in so long, I passed out. Normally it doesn't happen.'

'How- how… but, why-?' Winters was the first one to react, though it didn't seem likely he was going to produce coherent sentences anytime soon. The only time Eugene had seen him remotely this way was back in Normandy, when Blithe had miraculously recovered his vision after he'd talked to him.

Nixon seemed a lot less faced by what had just occurred, and just patted his best friend in the back, looking at the girl.

'Okay, now that clears up how she healed Julian, but not how she escaped the Krauts'

He could hear Sophie gritting her teeth, but she didn't say anything. Instead she looked at Julian.

'You haven't said anything yet'

Julian smiled at her, and without a second pause, hugged her. She stiffed for a second, and then awkwardly patted his back.

'Hey, it's okay, it's okay' she said, though she looked like she didn't know what to do.

'I knew it was you, you saved me!' When Julian drew back, he said 'Thank you. Thank you so much.'

She beamed at him, and Eugene got the impression she didn't get thanked often for what she did.

'And you?' she looked at Eugene, but he shrugged, lifting his hands a little, not knowing what to say.

'I- I just' he shrugged again. There were many things he had in mind, like ask her if she was some sort of super-traiteur, or if Julian had been right when he had said she was an… Goddamnit, he didn't even know what he was thinking. So he just settled on the small smile and the shrugged arms.

She seemed to understand, though, because she just nodded and turned back to Nixon.

'Captain Nixon, I did not make a pact with the Krauts. I don't know what to do to make you believe me, but I picked up a few names and such while I was there. Maybe that could help?'

Nixon nodded slowly, eyeing her warily, and began walking back to CP. When he realised Sophie wasn't following him, he turned around, raising an eyebrow.

'Is everything alright, Corporal?'

She shuffled her feet a little, looking down and up again.

'Mmm, could I have something to eat? I haven't eaten in three days'

'Yeah, of course' replied Nixon, looking a little sheepish. 'Though I'm afraid it'll have to be cold. Nothing keeps warm here.'

She looked at the Kraut coat on the floor forlornly, wrapping her arms around herself.

'I noticed.'

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><p>Eugene sat in his foxhole, shivering. It was night now, and he hadn't seen Sophie since she went with Captain Nixon, and that had been a good twelve hours ago. He was supposed to start his rounds a little while ago, but he needed to clear his head before he went to take care of the men. What he had witnessed that afternoon still didn't seem possible, though it didn't differ much from what his grandmother did. It was just that when his grandmother healed, it wasn't an apparent pain, the people she healed weren't bleeding, they just were ill.<p>

And his grandmother did heal them, even if sometimes only for a little while, but she did.

But this girl, Sophie, she had healed an open wound; she had done what probably every person in this whole damn war wanted to do. Screw this war; she had done what every single person in this world wanted to do. He didn't know why she had told them about her powers, if he had been in her place he wouldn't have done it. He would have let them think he was a German spy before confessing.

How in the hell had she managed to keep it a secret? It must be tearing her up, keeping such a big secret for so long…

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. It wasn't his business what Sophie did, and in fact, he should start not thinking about her at all. It wasn't going to help him get through the war, or take care of the men. What happened today had been one of the many strange things that occurred during a war, and he really should stop thinking about her now, damnit, he was never gonna see her again.

But what about Julian? She had saved his fricking life! And what about when she had stood up to Nixon? Eugene had never met anyone apart from Winters who dared to cross Nixon when he was in a foul mood.

Okay, now he really needed to stop thinking about her and start making his rounds, or he wouldn't get any sleep that night.

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><p>It turned out he really wasn't going to get any sleep that night. Approximately two minutes after he started his rounds, Kraut fire began to come in and one of the replacements got hit in the arm. Eugene doubted he would ever use his arm properly again. He bandaged him up with the last big bandage he had and one of the torn sheets Renée had given him, but the replacement, named Johnson, was still bleeding , and so he had to stuck two of his fingers in his arm to stop the haemorrhage. Now they were speeding in a Jeep through the forest in the direction of Bastogne, and he was trying to keep himself awake and calm Johnson down.<p>

'Doc Doc, what if I don't make it? What if I die here? Oh God, it hurts!' he grunted, pressing his head against the hood of the Jeep, gritting his teeth.

'You're gonna be fine, Johnson, look at me. You're gonna be fine.'

He had to lean over the windshield to keep his hold on Johnson's arm, and he prayed they didn't crash, or he'd end up much worse than Johnson, who was trying to ignore the pain by talking non-stop.

'Why couldn't the broad that saved Julian fix me too? Where is she?'

Damnit, Eugene had gone an hour without thinking about Sophie, and now Johnson had to go and bring her up. Where had he heard about her anyway? That afternoon Winters had gone around the foxholes warning everyone not to talk about what happened to Julian or the girl that had 'saved' him.

Eugene didn't answer him, and just kept looking straight ahead.

When they arrived to Bastogne he hoped off the Jeep, his fingers still in Johnson's arm. It was beginning to worry him how he didn't seem to stop bleeding. Johnson was looking paler by the second and his breath was getting laboured, and he didn't talk so much anymore.

Two men with a stretcher ran towards them and loaded Johnson onto it, and they ran inside the church. Inside it was a little bit warmer than outside, but not much. The place seemed hectic, with nurses running around and doctors barking orders. He looked around, suddenly thinking of Renée, and saw her bent over one soldier, holding his legs, while a doctor tried to extract something from his lower stomach.

What had happened? The makeshift hospital was almost full, and the soldiers lying there were looking much worse than they had looked the last time he was there.

A burly doctor with blondish hair approached him, looking at Johnson's arm and Eugene's fingers, or rather hand, buried in the wound.

'Okay, put him on that table' he said to the men carrying the stretcher, and taking a look at Johnson's dogtags, while Eugene said what he knew about the wound.

'Deep, probably hit an artery. It still has shrapnel in it, though I took care of the worse. He didn't stop bleeding so I had to-'

The doctor nodded absentmindedly, inspecting the wound, and then cursed.

'Nurse! I need a handsaw! Now! And gauze! Lots of gauze!'

Eugene stared at the doctor, knowing what it meant. He had feared it was gonna happen, given the extent of Johnson's injuries, but damnit, he had stuck his hand inside his fucking arm, all for nothing.

Johnson, who had been drowsy from the morphine and the pain, snapped his head to the side, looking at the doctor, suddenly awake again.

'What? A saw? No, no, no, Doc please don't do it1 I want my arm! Please!'

'I'm sorry soldier, but if you want to live I have to amputate. Nurse!'

'Here it is, sir.' A nurse had arrived to where they were, her arms full of bandages, and she left them on the table near them. That's when Eugene saw her face, and he couldn't suppress the gasp that escaped his lips.

'Sophie?'

She lifted her head and stared at him, clearly surprised.

'Eugene!'

The doctor looked at them funny, but Johnson lifted his head a little and looked at her.

'Are you the girl that hea-' he stopped mid-sentence at the panicked glare Sophie threw him, but it didn't matter, the doctor was already looking around, distracted.

'Where is the handsaw?'

'I don't know sir. I think-'

'Save my arm, please! Don't let him do it!' Johnson grabbed Sophie's arm, and she stared at him for a second. She then glanced at the doctor.

'I think there's a handsaw in the supply room. But it's too high up for me to get.'

The doctor looked at her with exasperation, but turned around and went into one of the adjacent rooms.

Sophie immediately bent over Johnson, looking him directly in the eyes.

'What I am about to do you can't tell anyone, or I swear you'll be in deep trouble. You understand me? No one'

Johnson nodded feebly.

'Okay. Eugene, I'm gonna very slowly put my hand were yours is now, okay? Don't move your hand too much; I fear his artery is torn'

'Yes it is' he said as she gently put her hand over his and slipped it into the wound at the same time he slipped it out. His fingers grazed her palm, and he heard her take a deep breath. Johnson grunted in pain. When his hand was completely out he wiped it on his trousers.

'I cannot heal you completely, for obvious reasons, just enough so you can keep that arm'

For the next few seconds nothing seemed to happen, but Eugene could see Johnson's face regaining some of its colour, and his breathing becoming a little bit steadier.

Just in that moment the doctor came back, a handsaw in his hand.

'It wasn't in the supply room, I had to take one from Geoffrey.'

Sophie shrugged, but didn't comment. The doctor advanced towards the table and took the handsaw, but she stopped him.

'I don't think it's necessary, sir. The artery isn't torn, I can feel it. We just have to take out the remaining shrapnel and he'll be fine'

He glared at her, but she lifted a little bit her hand, showing that no blood spurted out of the wound. The doctor did a double take, his eyes growing bigger.

'Oh' he simply said, and then scratched the back of his head. 'Okay, pass me the pincers.'

Feeling he wasn't needed anymore, Eugene silently walked away from them, looking for other soldiers that needed help.

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><p>A few hours later he got out of the church, breathing in the air outside. It smelled of fuel and mud and burned wood, but at least it smelled better than down there. Sighing, he sat on the stone steps of the church, resting his head against the wall. It was still dark, though the sky was getting lighter over the ruined houses of Bastogne.<p>

He closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead, feeling a headache form behind his eyes.

He didn't know when the last time he slept was.

Or the last time he ate, by the way. His stomach rumbled, and he thought of getting out of his pocket the chocolate Renée had given him, but his eyelids were too heavy, and he was just so tired…

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><p>Thanks to all of you who reviewed, specially to <strong>cbols<strong>, **immortalrmy**, **haha**, **mouse** and **FireIsLove**, and to all of those who favorited or put this story on alerts!

Keep them coming!


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